


Copycat

by allyavenue



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Old Friends, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 17:26:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16978812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyavenue/pseuds/allyavenue
Summary: Alone in the TARDIS, the Doctor receives a string of mysterious messages that lead her back to an old friend





	Copycat

The first message arrives as the Doctor is working below the console, contentedly rewiring circuits and tightening screws. With her mind occupied by the task and her vision slightly obscured by her welding helmet, she nearly misses the characteristicof the  _vworp_ of the TARDIS as a message appears on the screen above her. The Doctor ducks out from underneath the console and lifts her helmet, grease smearing one of her cheekbones. She regards the message, running a hand through her hair and frowning.

_Copycat!_

This is probably a piece of junk mail, the Doctor tells herself. Sometimes the TARDIS picks up random messages if the environmental condition and temporal fields are right, like a radio receiver picking up the stray wave. Then again, the TARDIS shouldn’t be picking up outside messages while it’s floating around the corner of a wonky and mostly uninhabited galaxy. Feeling the urge to return to her work before something catches on fire and the TARDIS gets angry at her (again), she makes a mental note of the message and slides back under the console.

 

The custard creams are stacked precariously in the Doctor’s hands as she carries them from the console room to the library, where a half-read book and a cup of tea are waiting for her. She places the biscuits in a coffee table and throws herself down onto a couch nonchalantly. The Doctor picks up her book-she’s currently reading a case study about frog colonies on Venus- and nibbles on a custard cream.

The familiar warmth of her psychic paper receiving an external message reaches her through her coat pocket. With a huff, the Doctor sets her book aside and pulls out her psychic paper.

_Copycat!!_

The Doctor sonics her psychic paper slowly, searching for any signs of ill intentions or psychic viruses. The reading comes up devoid of any threats. Unsure what to do with this message for the second time, the Doctor tosses her psychic paper over her shoulder and continues to read about how the amphibians have been fairing under the sulphuric acid clouds.

 

The Kerblam! Man smiles. The Kerblam! Man is always smiling. The Doctor accepts the small package from the robot, raising an eyebrow as it sounds its routine spiel. With a flash, the machine is gone. She opens the small box, racking her brain for the last time she’d ordered something. Perhaps the fam had used the TARDIS computer? She was now realizing that perhaps it wasn’t the wisest idea to let her friends try hypervodka before bed-

A sealed tube of blood red lipstick. This couldn’t possibly be hers. The Doctor rolls the tube in her fingers suspiciously before checking the packing slip. Her suspicions are confirmed in a glance.

_Copycat!!! (and perhaps illiterate this time?)_

The Doctor sighs, pocketing the lipstick and turning to the console. Hacking into Kerblam!’s system is a fairly simple job, and she has the profile of whoever sent her the package on the console screen in minutes. The payment information is all there, but there is no name attached to the file. In the note section, a line of text is flagged. It reads, “Doctor, I’ll see you soon”. A string of coordinates follow the note.

The Doctor would have to be stupid to simply walk into an encounter with an unknown person who is clearly trying to meet her. It could be a trap. In fact, this most likely is a trap. She should ignore these messages and pick her fam up for dinner. Maybe a picnic?

No matter how many times she regenerates, the Doctor never manages to get over her curiosity.

She has her suspicions of who the sender is, of course.There are only a few choice people in the universe who would attempt to reach her in such a convoluted manner. If she’s right, which happens on occasion, these messages will be very welcome. She’ll meet this mysterious sender, but she’ll be careful.

With her mind made up, the Doctor quickly showers and dressed in clean clothes. She uses a bit of the perfume Yaz had left on the ship, telling herself that her friend won’t notice. The Doctor also briefly considers wearing the lipstick, but this idea is thrown out quickly. Not only has she never used lipstick before, but the probability of the whole situation being a trap was still worryingly high. A quick check in the reflective screen of the console lets the Doctor know that she’s ready for anything from an attack or trap to a lovely outing.

The trip to the mysterious coordinate location takes no time at all. From the readings the TARDIS is giving her, the Doctor surmises that she’s landed on a small planet that was colonized by humans in the fortieth century. Tucking her sonic and the lipstick into her coat pocket, she steps out of the TARDIS slowly.

Loud and rapid music hits her ears immediately. The smell of food, some for humans and some not, fills the air. The Doctor smiles. She knows exactly who thrives in this type of atmosphere. Her eyes scan what appears to be the interior of a rowdy pub, or perhaps a restaurant, for a familiar figure. A hand delicately taps her on the shoulder and she turns on her heel with a start.

“Copycat!” Missy stands before her, pointing an accusatory finger in the Doctor’s face. “So you can read then. Good.”

The Doctor blinks in confusion. “You’re not my wife.”

Missy laughs. “We could change that, you know. I’ve hardly any plans tonight except this little rendezvous and I haven’t gotten eloped in ages. The last one ended up dead, but her palace was lovely.”

There had been a time in the Doctor’s past when coming face-to-face with Missy would have filled her with dread and anger. Surprisingly, she didn’t feel that now. In this moment, the Doctor simply felt confusion. Perhaps her hearts also shone a bit at seeing a member of her own species after so long. Still, she couldn’t deny her disappointment that River Song had not sent her those messages.

“I’m alright, actually. I’m already married.” The Doctor crosses her arms, leaning against a wall. “Why did you call me here, Missy? It’s been ages. I was beginning to wonder what happ-” she pauses and swallows. “Spoilers.”

Missy rolls her eyes, taking a step toward the Doctor and inspecting her face slowly. “No need to play coy,” she muttered “I remember everything. The Mondasian cybermen, poor little Bill.” She pouts dramatically. “Mr. Goatee making an appearance. I guess my dancing skills are consistent through my regenerations, like your naivete. No, you don’t need to hide anything from me.”

The Doctor frowns in confusion. “How did you get out of there? I thought you were dead.”

“Doctor dear, you should know by now that presuming me dead is a rookie error.” Missy apparently completes her inspection of the Doctor’s face and huffs. She grabs the sleeve of her coat and pulls the Doctor to a corner booth. “How I survived is unimportant and would ruin my carefully cultivated gravitas. Now,” she squints “why aren’t you wearing the lipstick I sent you?”

The Doctor takes the tube, still sealed in plastic, out of her pocket and sets it on the table. “I don’t really do makeup. Tried it once, Yaz did my eyeliner and mascara. A scramble with some sontarans got in our way and by the end of the day, half of it was running down my face.” She scrunches her nose in disgust. “I suppose it’s alright if you sit around plotting-”

“-or locked in a vault.” Missy interjects bitterly before cracking a sickeningly sweet smile. “Besides, it doesn’t matter what your strays do or say. I just thought you’d want to take another page out of my book. They’ll be in and out of your life in an instant, but it’s clear that I’m still having an effect on you, old friend.”

The Doctor resists the urge to take the bait about her fam dying or leaving her or some other awful circumstance that Missy would no doubt be happy to goad her with. Instead she crosses her arms petulantly. “Another page out of your book?” she snorts. “You honestly don’t think I regenerated into a woman because of you? That’s proper hilarious, that is. Is that what all the copycat nonsense was about?”. As the Doctor voices this theory aloud, it makes more sense to her. Why would River send her cryptic and slightly jealous messages? Her clues were usually delivered with more flair and less passive aggression.

Missy is full on grinning now. She leans across the table. “How delightful! Not only are you northern, but you’re defensive!” She taps the tip of the Doctor’s nose. “And cute at that. But face it Doctor dear, you’re simply not imaginative enough to regenerate into a womanly form on your own.” She winks. “You’re welcome.”

The Doctor glances at the table muttering about statistical probabilities and the gender fluidity of time lords before glancing up again. “Regardless of whether this,” she gestures vaguely to her face “is because of you-which is definitely _totally_ is not-that still does not explain why you brought me here.”

Missy shrugs. “We can agree to disagree on the origin of your new feminine wiles-”

“-which has historically meant that you’ll pester me day in and day out until I say that you’re right.” the Doctor interrupts.

Missy nods sagely. “You’re learning. Anyways, why else would I bring you here?” A vulpine smile makes the Doctor shudder and instinctively prepare for some sort of strategic attack. “I’m alone, you’re alone-”

“-I’m not alone, I have my fam.” The Doctor cuts in, crossing her arms.

Missy waves this comment away nonchalantly. “Oh, give them time. They'll die like mayflies or find other things to do. That older one only has a few decades left anyhow. I can wait.”

Anger rises in the Doctor’s throat and she resists the urge to spit an equally hurtful comment back at Missy. But what could she say that would be equally hurtful when her friend (enemy? acquaintance?) has no one? Instead, the Doctor settled for digging her hands into her coat pockets and giving Missy her darkest look.

Missy ignores her reaction and continues. “You locked me in the vault, blah blah blah, I’ve turned good or whatever. I’ll overlook the fact that you didn’t bring me half the things I requested while I was supposed to be learning my lesson.”

“For the last time, a convertible fishing boat wouldn’t have fit through the door and there was no water anyways.” The Doctor mutters.

“Semantics, dear. My point is,” she leans across the table. “We’ve been playing intergalactic and trans-temporal ping pong enough. Sure, I’ve tried to kill you a couple times.” She puts a finger to the Doctor’s lips to silence her protests at this understatement. “That’s in the past. Face it, Doctor dear, we’re at a point like no other. A watershed moment, if you will. It’s  _time."_

The Doctor partially feigns confusion, looking around the pub. “Time for what? Appetizers? I agree, the service here isn’t blowing me away.”

Missy rolls her eyes. “Time for us to finally travel together, you massive dummy. I have my brilliance and you have your…” she pauses, finding the words. “Astoundingly hypocritical morals and aptitude for tinkering. Plus, girl talk every night sounds tempting, doesn’t it?”

The Doctor sighs and slides down a bit in her seat. This was the most compelling argument Missy has made in favor of them travelling together. To be fair, her past arguments usually included immediate threats of death to her or others. The phrase _conquer the universe, Mr. President_ pops into her head and makes her shudder. The Doctor had resigned herself to the fact that she and Missy, the Doctor and The Master, Theta and Koschei, would be intrinsically tied to one another always. Their paths always crossed, for better or for worse. Missy was the one being in all the universe who had known, truly known, the Doctor since the beginning. Where her fam would look upon her with eyes of adoration and complete trust, Missy would scoff and say ‘you can do much better’.

The Doctor doesn't love Missy. Not in the conventional sense that most people would use that word. She loves River, she loves her fam. With Missy, a deeper connection and understanding exists. They had grown together, from their early days at the academy to their eventual teamwork. Traveling with Missy meant that the Doctor wouldn’t have to act like the hero, the teacher, the cornerstone holding everything. Some days she felt like none of those things.

This was almost too tempting. Never had the Doctor seriously considered traveling with the Master in such a capacity. This was much more domestic than their usual meetings, which were often sparse and fraught with drama.

Perhaps she would have said yes immediately before everything that happened. The Mondasian cybermen, losing Bill, remembering Clara, regenerating. She still felt so new, like a lake that hasn’t quite frozen over yet. She hasn’t had enough time with her fam. They were just beginning to see the wonders of the universe. They may not know her as well as Missy does, but the Doctor couldn’t turn her back on them so suddenly.

The Doctor looks up from her contemplation into Missy’s eager eyes.

“Maybe. Not now, not right away. But maybe.”

“What’s holding you back?”

“I need more time. I’m still learning about myself, I need to become whoever I am. And my fam-no, don’t laugh- they need me too. And I think I need them.” She sighs. “You said you would wait, so wait.”

Missy nods, snapping her fingers and beckoning a server over to their booth. “If you had asked that of me a few hundred years ago, I wouldn’t be able to say yes.” She murmurs her drink order to the server and the Doctor does the same.

The Doctor cracks a lopsided smile. “If we were a few hundred years younger, we wouldn’t be able to stomach the idea of traveling together in the first place. We must be getting old.”

“Too true, old friend. Too true.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!! Please let me know what you thought in the comments. Also, I am always taking prompts on my tumblr (oh-brilliant).


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